Learning to Love
by Jammeke
Summary: Could he really grow to love other women if he gave it enough time? Did love really work like that? Robin/Marian, Robin/Isabella, Robin/Kate


**Title:** Learning to Love

**Rating:** K+

**Summary: **Could he really grow to love other women? Could he end up loving Isabella or Kate or… any other woman if he gave it enough time? Did love really work like that? Robin/Marian, Robin/Isabella, Robin/Kate

**Author's Note:** I didn't understand Robin's decision to pursue a relationship with Kate (or even Isabella for that matter) in season 3, so I decided to write a story about his thought process. I thought it might help me understand him better. And it did. A little.

This story takes place during "A Dangerous Deal". There was one night between Robin and Kate's kiss and their meeting with Isabella at Knight's Glade. During that night, I made Robin do some thinking… Have a nice read.

* * *

**Learning to Love **

_Learn from yesterday, live for today, hope for __tomorrow ~ Albert Einstein _

**(~) **

Kate.

What to think about Kate.

Robin tried to make himself more comfortable. His blanket was itchy, his legs ached from all the running he'd done today and he was positive his feet would never be warm again.

Maybe his discomfort was the universe's way of telling him something. Maybe it was trying to keep him awake so he had no choice but to think about the blond peasant girl who'd come on to him earlier today.

It wasn't that he'd never thought about Kate before. In fact, he'd thought about her plenty of times.

His first thought about her had been that she was an idiot for standing up to Gisborne without weapons or anyone to help her. His second thought had been that he'd never seen her in Locksley before. His third thought had been about her hair – he'd wondered how many hours a day she spent making that braid.

Only hours after meeting her, he'd thought she shouldn't have run off to help her brother when he hadn't given the order yet. Hours after that, when she'd tried and failed to save her brother in the courtyard, he'd thought she should have stayed away from the castle. At the end of the day, he'd thought it was nice of her to help them recover the villages' men.

In the weeks that followed, he hadn't thought about her. She'd basically told him she never wanted to see him again, so there hadn't been much to think about. But after he'd tried to save her from Ruthless Rufus, he'd known he'd gotten her into trouble and he'd thought he could make it up to her by offering her a place on his gang.

Almost immediately after that, he'd thought she had to make a choice between Allan and Much – sooner rather than later, because the two men had been constantly at each other's throat. He'd thought she was quite a capable fighter, but also that she sure got captured a lot. He'd thought he liked her hair better loose. Oh, and he'd thought she complained too much about Isabella.

Now, he wasn't sure what to think anymore.

She'd kissed him.

And he just didn't _get _it. Wasn't she supposed to be in love with Allan or Much? She couldn't have any feelings for him – she still held a grudge against him for getting her brother killed.

Right?

She loved what he stood for, as did many others, but did she really love him? Not the Legend, but _him_, Robin?

He was pretty sure no one did. Well, Much did, of course – bless the man – but apart from his loyal servant, Robin had no reason to believe anyone loved him for who he was.

He liked to believe Marian had. But she was gone now and so were her feelings for him. His feelings for her would never go away, but they had no place to _go_; she was no longer around to project them on, so he might as well forget about them. Or attempt to.

Yes, the only person who he knew truly loved him was Much. And that knowledge hurt, because Robin knew he didn't deserve his servant's love.

Especially now.

Robin wasn't sure what to make of the situation, but he _did_ know that Much loved Kate. And Kate loved Robin.

Or so she thought.

Maybe she _did_ love him. He didn't know. All he knew was she _should_ love Much, because God damn it, the man deserved to be loved, and yes, he'd just sworn, and yes, he'd fought in the Holy Land in the name of the God he'd just sworn upon, and no, he didn't give a damn.

He was Robin Hood. He always knew what to do. But God help him – and maybe he should have thought twice about cursing his God before asking him for help – but he _didn't_ know what to do with Kate's feelings.

The truth was he didn't know how he felt about Kate. He didn't have a clue. Yes, he'd thought about her before. But never _like that_. She was half his age! Well. . . more like three quarters.

But still.

Damn Kate and her kiss and her hopeful expression. Damn it all _to Hell_.

And yes, he'd sworn again. But if he didn't go to Heaven for all the good he'd done in this world, for all the sacrifices he'd made – he didn't even _want_ to go there. Well, he did, obviously, because Marian would probably be there, waiting for him, but. . .

But.

Did he love Kate? That's what it all came down to, wasn't it? Whether he loved the girl or not. Because if he didn't, he had to tell her he didn't feel the same.

Provided she loved him. Because if she didn't, they _would_ feel the same – and maybe that would make things even more confusing than they already were.

Robin was pretty sure he didn't love Kate. He'd have noticed if he did.

So what was he supposed to tell her? _"Kate, listen. I like you, I really do. But whether I like it or not, and believe me, sometimes I hate it. . . but I am Robin Hood, I am an outlaw. And I can't change that."_

It was a nice speech. He'd meant to let Isabella down gently. . . but it hadn't turned out so well; she'd tried to kill him afterwards. Would Kate try to run him through, too?

She probably wouldn't. But she was a member of his gang and that. . . complicated things. How could they work together if she was angry with him or didn't want to face him anymore?

And then there was Much.

No matter what Robin told Kate, the man would know she'd chosen Robin over him, and that knowledge would hurt, and _damn it_, Robin didn't want to hurt his servant – or former servant, or whatever it was Much called himself these days – but he had no choice but to hurt him, because Kate had put him in that position.

In fact, Kate had put him in an _impossible_ position. He had to choose whose feelings to hurt – hers, or his former servant's. He might end up hurting Much's feelings because they both loved the same woman.

Except Robin didn't love Kate.

But it was the principle of the thing.

Robin rolled onto his stomach and stared at the cloth that separated his bed from Kate's. She'd pulled it aside earlier this evening – for reasons not entirely unknown to him; he just didn't like to dwell on them – but there was enough fabric left between them for him to stare at.

Life was a cruel mistress. Clearly, she wasn't a _jealous_ mistress, because she kept throwing women in his lap - and Robin didn't know what to do with them.

He shook his head as if the motion would help him clear his thoughts. He could _not_ have a relationship with Kate. He didn't love the girl and he would let her down as gently as possible.

But. . . what if she took his rejection badly? What if she ran away? He couldn't let her do that, could he? She was a member of his gang and therefore his responsibility. Clearly, there was no way she could go back to her family. Did she have anywhere else to go?

_Why_ was he even assuming she'd run away? Because she was impulsive? Well, running away would certainly be an impulsive act. On top of that, she liked drama. Running away would be _very_ dramatic. But other than that, he had no reason to believe she'd run.

That was the point. He didn't know her all that well. Sure, she was easy on the eyes; he'd have to be blind not to see that. And she cared about her fellow men – _people_, he mentally corrected herself. After all, she'd joined his gang and she performed her tasks quite well most of the time.

Other than that, he didn't know much about her, because he hadn't really _talked_ to her. Most of their conversations were about Isabella; and those never ended well. Actually, they usually ended with one of them storming off. Oh, she was spirited as well. Just like Isabella. Just like. . .

Ahem.

So. He would tell her he didn't love her. First thing tomorrow.

After breakfast.

Robin rolled onto his back and stared at the roof made by the hands of Will Scarlett. The prospect of telling Kate 'no' made him wish tomorrow wouldn't come. And falling asleep now would make tomorrow arrive that much faster.

Maybe, he thought, as he rubbed his feet against each other and prayed they would just _warm up_, it would be better to let Kate down gently _after_ their meeting with Isabella. She might get the wrong idea if he told her 'no' and ran off to Isabella afterwards.

She might start yelling at him – hell; she might even bring up her brother again. He felt sorry for her, he really did. . . but if he heard her scream about her dead brother _one more time_, he might just. . . behead something.

Something blond.

Of course, her brother had been killed by another Gisborne, so she'd have to dig deep to find an excuse to bring Matthew into the argument. But she was resourceful; she'd find a way.

Resourcefulness. . . another trait. A good one, actually.

Much mumbled something in his sleep, and Robin lifted his head off his pillow of leaves to look at him. It had taken him a year to convince his servant – _former _servant – he didn't have to sleep at his feet anymore. And now the man was lying on the opposite of the camp. Far away from Robin. . .

Would Kate go to Much if Robin turned her down?

It was wishful thinking, he knew. But he was Robin Hood; he was a dreamer. He was a master at wishful thinking. He wanted things he couldn't have. He'd become an outlaw because he wanted things the Sheriff and Prince John couldn't give him.

Robin rolled onto his side again. Why had no one woken up yet? He'd been twisting and turning for hours. If Gisborne came waltzing into the camp right now, would any of them _notice_? Well, there was only one way to find out, so he probably didn't want to get an answer to that question.

He mentally shook himself. Those thoughts could be saved for another sleepless night. Right now, he had to focus on. . . on. . .

What had he been thinking about before an image of Gisborne stumbling around the camp had made it into his thoughts?

Oh, right. He wanted things he couldn't have.

Peace. Justice. Love. Children.

He'd told Isabella having a family would always be a dream to him. And it _would _be. She wanted something from him and he couldn't give it to her. Kate, on the other hand, hadn't asked for anything. She hadn't mentioned farms or pets or children.

Yet.

The blonde was a member of his gang, one of his lads, so to speak. She was one of the people he lived with. He was with her almost every hour of every day.

He'd told Isabella 'no', because he was an outlaw. Oh, he was an outlaw alright. And there was nothing he could do to change that.

So, he might as well resign himself to his fate.

. . . Would being with Kate really be so bad?

They lived as partners already, and it didn't seem to get in the way of their tasks.

All right, so maybe he didn't love Kate. But he _did_ love her as one of his people, and he loved her for being a member of his gang. Could that be enough to start a relationship?

Robin rolled over again. Was he seriously considering Kate's offer? Was the lack of sleep getting to him? Maybe he was dreaming already… No, there was no way he could dream up the feeling of the itchy blanket against his skin. But to start. . . _something_ with Kate? For real?

Well, being with Kate would make her happy. Probably.

Not being with Kate would make her. . . would it make her sad? He had no idea. It wouldn't make _him_ sad. But seeing her sad would probably make him sad. So in a way. . . not being with her would make him sad, too. Provided she would be sad in the first place.

He was losing his mind.

First and foremost. . . Shouldn't a relationship be based on love?

Finally. He was back on track again. Love was an essential ingredient for a relationship. And Robin didn't love. . . he didn't _love. . ._ Had he loved Isabella?

No_. _

But he could have grown to love her. That much he knew. He'd seriously believed they _could_ have a future together. If he hadn't been an outlaw, they might have had a future together.

So. . . could he grow to love Kate? That was the big question.

With a shock, he realized the answer was yes. For all the reasons he'd come up with this evening, he believed he could grow to love Kate.

And that thought frightened him.

Could he really grow to love other women? Could he end up loving Isabella or Kate or. . . _any_ other woman if he gave it enough time? Did love really work like that?

That thought was. . . disturbing. Oh, very much so.

He loved Marian.

He loved Marian.

He loved. . .

It was no use. Marian was dead. He couldn't ignore the fact that the woman he loved was buried in a place far away from here.

He didn't want to move on, and yet he _did_ – but he had no idea who to move on to.

Kate. Isabella. Kate. Isabella. Kate. Isabella.

Were those his options? Was he going to have to choose between them? Was he really going to give love another try for one of them?

_Could_ he?

Marian, he thought desperately, staring up at the ceiling and wishing he could see the sky, the stars. . . _anything _but wood and blankets and all the other things that reminded him of houses and the life they should have had together. What do I do? What _can _I do?

"_You promise me you keep fighting. . ." _

Some of her last words. At one point, he'd forgotten about them. In the months after her death, he'd forgotten about the promise he'd made her in the sands of the Holy Land. Tuck's presence had reminded him of his promise. He'd reminded him of who he was, and what he stood for.

His wife had asked him to keep fighting. Well, he would. He _would_ keep fighting.

And that meant sticking with his gang. At that meant looking after the people. And that meant. . . letting go of the idea of a family.

But. . . did loving someone have to include starting a family?

He'd meant to start a family with Marian at some point. For years, he'd envisioned having children together. . . But she'd brutally ruined his plans by dying in his arms.

Robin hadn't thought about having a family since – not until Isabella told him about her dream.

But he _couldn't_ start a family with her. He couldn't run away from his responsibilities. He couldn't leave his gang and he couldn't leave the forest.

Kate. Isabella. Kate. Isabella. Kate. Isabe-

He couldn't give Isabella the life she wanted. And she deserved. . . well, she deserved to be happy. For once in her life, she deserved to be happy. She deserved a husband who could make her happy.

He couldn't give Kate the. . . _love _she wanted. Not now, perhaps not ever. But their relationship didn't need to be complicated. Kate hadn't made it complicated yet. She'd kissed him and left it at that.

If all Kate expected was more kisses. . . then _that_ was something he could give her. He'd kissed women in the past – in fact, he'd enjoyed kissing women in the past. He was pretty sure he'd enjoy kissing Kate, too.

But would that be enough? If she truly loved him, would kissing him be enough? Perhaps for now it would be, but for the rest of their lives?

What if he couldn't grow to love her? What then?

Robin resisted the urge to bang his head against the pole next to his head. Here he was, contemplating a non-committed relationship with one of his gang members. What had become of him?

He closed his eyes.

Maybe, he thought, as he thought about Marian and Carter and Roy and all the other people he'd failed to save, he should stop thinking about forever. Maybe he should start thinking about right now.

After all, he didn't know how long the rest of his life would take. But he _did_ know he was here today. He was here with a woman who seemed to care about him. And he in return cared about her.

As he cared about all his gang members. He cared about John, Allan, Tuck, Kate and Much.

Kate and Much.

Could he _really _start something with Kate? Could he truly hurt Much that way?

And before he could even consider going down that road again, he suddenly knew what he was going to do. With instant clarity, Robin realized what he should have realized hours ago.

He would go to sleep. He would wake up tomorrow and he would have breakfast with the rest of his gang.

There was no need to make plans beyond that.

He didn't have to think about what to tell Kate right now. He didn't have to tell her 'no' and he didn't have to tell her 'yes' this very second, did he?

He, Robin Hood, had a life to live.

Sure, living a life required making decisions. And he did make decisions. He _would_ make decisions. He'd make them as he went along. And maybe in the future, in Heaven, he'd shake his head at his own foolishness and realize what he _should_ have done right now.

But at the moment, he was just a man – a _man_, not a Legend, living in the forest. At the moment, he didn't have a plan. At the moment, he didn't know what tomorrow would bring.

Whether Isabella would keep stay true to her word and turn up with the gold at Knight's Glade.

Whether Kate would bring up the kiss they'd shared in Nottingham.

Whether Much would hit him with a pan.

He wasn't sure of anything right now, so how could he make up his mind? How could he even think of being with Kate if he didn't know what her expectations were?

He was thinking too much. He had to stop doing that.

No matter what he decided, tomorrow would come, and he would have to decide something then. Why decide right now? Why force his mind, his _heart _into a position he wasn't yet ready for?

He would ask Much to get him another blanket tomorrow and he would stop fidgeting right now. He would forget about his frozen toes and he would go to sleep.

God, he desperately wanted to go to sleep.

So he did.

**~fin~**


End file.
